


a fist amidst the hands

by ParadifeLoft



Series: Home Sweet // No Sweet Home [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Jedi Critical, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Sith Pureblood, angst-adjacent, child character, delinquency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadifeLoft/pseuds/ParadifeLoft
Summary: Not everyone fits as a Jedi-in-training. Khisit attempts to deal.
Series: Home Sweet // No Sweet Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601719
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	a fist amidst the hands

Slow, steady ripples traveled across the pond in the meditation gardens, and as Khisit crouched over the bank, the image of a scowling, red, ridged face emerged to mar the water’s surface. Small, pointed bone spurs along the lines of brows, cheeks, and jaw; molten eyes and pointed carnivore’s canines visible in a grimace, all staring incongruously from above a regulation set of woolen apprentice’s robes.

None of the younglings’ dormitories had mirrors installed in them, so Khisit spotting their reflection had always been a sporadic occurrence, confined to brief glimpses in windowed library reading rooms, computer terminal screens, and still water. This water wasn’t still, but it was sedate enough for a clear picture, even if using it to preen like some of the older adolescents did would earn you a tongue-lashing if you got caught. And aside from general discouragement of frivolity, this particular pond was built to convey a greater _lesson_ , and _meaning_ , according to the masters in charge of showing the younglings and apprentices the gardens, so it was doubly unbecoming.

Not that any of this _meaning_ had ever felt like much to Khisit. The ripples, flowing outward from the steady stream of a fountain at the far end of the pond, were supposed to symbolise how actions taken by all the lifeforms in the galaxy traveled through the Force, according to droning tour narration and meditation instructions. Moving out from their source, sometimes doubling back to touch others when they reached a bank, but always returning to the whole eventually. Never disrupting the fundamental serenity of the pond’s true depth.

Khisit’s mouth twisted again. Slowly, they played a handful of stones from the adjacent rock garden across their fingers, contemplating, and then after holding it a moment, took a step back and lobbed the biggest one forcefully into the pond.

The resulting disturbance spread with much more jagged, rocking violence from the epicenter, distorting their image in the water the way none of the ordinary ones had. Plain brown and beige robes shuddered under the onslaught; the padawan braid sticking out of their unkempt ponytail was briefly eclipsed from the angle of the reflection. Their face acquired yet more depth of texture for a moment, and it hardly seemed as unsettling as it should have.

The rock they threw continued to sink, and settled down onto the bottom of the pond.

Khisit still didn’t have any real rationale for coming here, other than the aimless wandering of someone sneaking out of lessons, but they were alone here in the garden and they had a hard, clenching feeling in their chest that demanded doing _something_. (The sort of feeling they were supposed to imagine cupping in their hands, and letting drift away on the currents of the Force, leaving them empty, and steady, and calm. They’d had about as much luck trying to hold water in those same hands.)

A few moments later, the other few rocks they’d grabbed with the largest one followed their companion into the pond, but Khisit didn’t feel much better.

Peering down into the shallow depths of the water, though, they did notice the first rock had slid further downstream from the spot it had originally landed; and that it and the subsequent rocks were continuing to creep in that same direction. The floor of the pond declined, the further it got from the base where it was joined by the flow of the fountain - at the far end, water circled small eddies around a covered drain. Was the whole thing a closed system, water flowing down the fountain, into the pond, and then back up again to start all over?

Something about the combination of that thought and the tight twitchiness in Khisit’s chest seemed instructive.

A brief jaunt back to the rock garden later, and they found themself gritting their teeth at the unpleasant damp of the water gushing into their shoes and plastering pants to their legs as they waded fully into the pond. Crouching down and dousing themself almost fully, they tried to grasp at the edges of the drain covering, fingers slipping several times before they could get a good grip and start twisting it away. Some sort of slippery scummy material between the covering and the drain hole itself made the task even harder, but with a burst of irritated, focused intent imagining the cover sliding out into their hands - Khisit prised it loose, and the drain opening was left free.

Ultimately, it didn’t even take all the rocks they’d loaded their pockets down with, before the low, swirling current around the drain stagnated. They waded back out, and sat down on the edge of the pond, knees curled up against their chest and chin resting on the backs of their palms.

When one of the knights found them maybe half an hour later - a _knight_ , not even one of the masters - most of their robes were still well soaked through, and an additional inch of water had crept up over the banks for them to sit in like an unpleasant, flooding puddle.

Which in fairness, was exactly what it was.

* * *

_Dishwashing. Figures it would be extra dishwashing duty.  
_

_They wince as the liquid bandage stings against the exposed, near-black fissures in the dry cracks webbing their hands._

_It’s what always happens more or less, when they’re on dishwashing rotation, no matter how much lotion they slather on like the rest of their cohort - but now they’re stuck washing up as well as helping clean up the gardens, and complaining their hands hurt would hardly get any sympathy. There’s a very simple solution to the underlying problem of getting in trouble and needing extra chores in the first place, according to the masters in charge of the dormitories; and it was Khisit’s own choice to destroy a portion of the temple’s property._

_They don’t point out the even simpler solution to both problems this time though, because it would probably just get them another week added on for insubordinate backtalk. And maybe for once, they don’t feel like digging themself in deeper._


End file.
